


Blue Moon

by marvcltrash



Series: The Black Cat College AU [4]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: College AU, KLANCE FINALLY GET TOGETHER IN THIS ONE, M/M, Spanish speaking Lance, Trans Pidge, black cat college au, shiro and allura are only mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2016-07-23
Packaged: 2018-07-26 04:36:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7560346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marvcltrash/pseuds/marvcltrash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fourth part in the BCCAU. It will not make sense if you read this without reading them. Lance's POV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blue Moon

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so, in a few timezones, it's not even the 23rd yet! So this is early! Enjoy this, it was a blast to write.

Ever since Hunk made him admit his own feelings, Lance had tried to keep most of his own flirting to a minimum, keeping it to quick snips and jokingly scathing assessments of each other’s talents. He was always fine with the flirtation and the conversation before he realized he liked someone, but Hunk brought him down to Earth in ways someone had to. They were the best friend he had ever had, ever would have, and everything was better when he let them take over for him every once and awhile, tell him what was what. Sometimes, Lance wasn’t quite sure what was going on, in his own mind. 

He wasn’t really sure how he hadn’t noticed before, honestly. He had searched for ten minutes to find _Shiro_ , whose phone he used to _call_ Keith, to tell him he was missing their stupid, fakey tournament, like it was a date. In his own defense, Keith had still been waiting for him, which he immediately tucked back into a box. He wouldn’t give himself false hope that Keith was into him too - he had done that before, and never again. Well, he had gotten the best friend he’d ever had out of the first time, but he shut that down as well. He wasn’t into Hunk anymore, no matter how wonderful they were. There was a wistfulness there, but really, no more dating potential. 

Back on topic. He wasn’t sure what year Keith was in, what his major was, how old he was, where he was from, or anything that could be considered important, but he knew that Keith liked Dance Dance Revolution and waited for an hour for some guy he barely knew, and laughed on the phone when he was nervous, who wore worry well enough to communicate it in two words or less. To put it in a short way, Lance was enamoured with what he did know, which wasn’t the most new of the information he had to deal with. He was the most panromantic piece of shit he knew, and he knew Hunk. They both fell for anyone at the drop of a hat. 

Hunk held the corner on falling for anyone who was nice to them, getting moon eyes for anyone who defended them or complimented them (only person that didn’t work for had been Lance). Lance fell hard and fast for people who challenged him. He flirted with anything that had a pulse and was vaguely humanoid, even after he discovered his own demisexuality (after Hunk told him about their own), because it was fun. His mind memorized every conversation he had with someone he could argue with, but also someone who didn’t seem to actively hate him. He had liked the girl at Altea, the coffee shop on campus, Allura, because she argued with him, but she wasn’t into guys, as he was told. They were still close friends, anyway. 

Lance, at some point in their relationship, had a crush on every single one of his friends, no matter if he had another crush at the time. He had always been the king of multiple crushes, being pulled in ten different directions at once with over abounding affection and ‘emotionally constipated heart eyes.’ Hunk had called them that _ to his face _ once. Rude. Pidge had  _ agreed _ , also  _ to his face _ , which was even more rude. If he didn’t enjoy getting lovingly roasted, he might complain more. Pidge was always a good go-to whenever he needed someone to bring him back down in a harder way than Hunk, anyway. 

Now, it was Keith, and with Lance’s track record and previous experience, he wouldn’t return his feelings either, whatever that was supposed to mean. He had read that phrase once, somewhere, but it still didn’t make any sense. Return his feelings? That made it sound like they were giving them back, which, no matter who Lance was into at the time, just wasn’t true. Everyone loved in different ways. Lance was always in love, and everyone else was always not. It was just a thing, a thing he was totally okay with. He was still young, he didn’t need to settle down. He didn’t need someone to love him, yet. 

It was Wednesday, with only three days left until their re-tournament, when Lance literally bumped into Keith while changing the song playing on his phone.  _ Gasolina _ , the second song on his playlist, played loud in his ears while he picked himself up, blushing with having fallen. He hated falling, even with as much as he loved flying, because it was embarrassing. When he looked over and found Keith looking back at him, the flush ran all the way down to his neck and up to his ears, and he took out his headphones. “Watch where you’re going, huh, mullet head?” he said, but it sounded like a question, and it was a bit softer, more joking than the words would imply. A smirk played on his face. 

Keith was also a little red, fingers tapping against his thigh, and he rolled his eyes when Lance spoke, a small smile betraying him a little. “You ran into me, dipshit,” he replied, which seemed to be quickly becoming a nickname Lance was embarrassed to have making him smile. “I’d be willing to compromise and say we ran into each other, but I wouldn’t say it was all  _ my  _ fault, princess,” and maybe keeping the flirting to a minimum wasn’t a promise he should even try to make himself, at this point. He was too far in. 

This was the third time in three days that he had interacted with Keith, and that wasn’t counting the texts that he had almost sent the other on the number he had lifted from Shiro’s phone. Shiro had actually been willing to give it to him, just so that Lance didn’t have to go through so much trouble to get up with Keith again. In return, knowing Pidge’s type like the back of his hand, Lance pointed across the hall and down two dorms. “That’s Pidge’s room. He’s the only guy with a single on this hall. Do with that information what you will. He’s one of the best people I know, so maybe ya’ll could be friends.” 

“Fight me, Lance,” Keith said, really only a moment or so after what Lance said, but to Lance’s wandering mind, it felt a bit longer. “Make me, Keith,” Lance took a half step forward, almost in Keith’s personal space, raising his eyebrows. “See you Saturday, if you show up this time,” the shorter of them said, backing into the elevator with a wider smile. Lance turned back around and continued on his way to meet Hunk in the dining hall, an extra bounce in his step. That totally wasn’t Keith related at all.   
  


* * *

 

 

With his best jeans clinging to his hips, Lance walked into the mall at 6:57 pm, walking smoothly and completely calmly across the mall until Keith came into his line of sight. He’d been in the mall maybe a minute or two when he started sneaking around like a little kid, walking quietly behind some of the machines to try to stay out of Keith’s sight. He smirked as he came up behind his rival, grabbing his hips to spook him. Keith just turned around in his hands and smirked up at him, and he was so  _ pretty  _ and  _ close _ , that Lance didn’t drop his hands  _ like a normal fucking person _ , until after he spoke. 

“Is that what you meant, dipshit?” he said, pretty smile opening up his features and Lance couldn’t  _ breathe _ , to be perfectly honest. He  _ finally  _ dropped his hands from Keith’s hips, his eyes on the ground for a moment, collecting himself off of it. “Are you ready to dance, mullet man?” he tried to emulate his real dynamic, raising an eyebrow and drawing himself together more. “Ready when you are, sunrise land,” and he was stunned he had even used that in the correct context. The light smile with it made his eyes shine, and Lance forgot to follow for a moment. 

“I had last win, so I’m picking first song,” Keith’s voice broke him out of his reverie, and Lance scurried to catch up with him, using his own long legs to his advantage. “It’s going to be your last win,” he muttered, mostly for the hope that Keith would hear him and maybe laugh. He grinned, and that was more than enough. 

Keith was pretty and distracting as he set himself up to dance, widening his hips in setting his shoulders, the muscles in his back flowing beautifully beneath one of the tightest black shirts Lance had ever seen outside of a queer bar. The music started up and Lance was a beat behind, but, after a lifetime of playing dancing games with his sisters, he caught up pretty quickly. He tried to restrain himself from looking at Keith too much, striving to win. His competitive nature didn’t quit, even if his competitor was unfairly cute, and even if he had his hair up in a ponytail that was so not fair this time. 

When his screen flashed with “Try again next time!” he couldn’t say he was entirely surprised, though he did scowl at the screen, rolling his eyes. “Do we have to rematch again for your delicate sensibilities?” Keith teased, and he looked at Lance in a way that he couldn’t help but analyze, eyes a little bigger. “No,” Lance replied, which seemed to surprise Keith as much as it did himself, though his own reaction was entirely internal. “Instead, we’re going to grab some food, and you’re going to pay for it, because I haven’t eaten yet, and I’m _ oh so sad about losing _ ,” he continued, and it was only a moment before Keith was agreeing, even more surprisingly. “Alright,” was all Keith said, and Lance looked on with wide eyes before he let a bit of smugness climb into his features. 

“Big Apple Pizza?” Keith offered before walking towards it, not waiting for an answer, which Lance actually didn’t mind. He followed after and ordered after Keith did, still surprised the other was actually paying for him. He tried to strike up a conversation once they were sat down, fighting off his own surprise and nervousness. “Alright, Keith. We can hardly be rivals if I know nothing about you. Give me the dirt,” he said, conjuring a smile to accompany his words. “You have to go first,” Keith shot back, and Lance understood the cagey-ness, almost. He let it go, anyway. “Okay,” he said, before contemplating for a moment on what to say. 

“My family is huge. I’m from originally Cuba. My moms scrounged up money for eons to help those of us who wanted to go to university go, and they cried when I got my track scholarship. What are your parents like?” Lance rambled before ending on a question, conversationally. “Red light,” Keith quickly said in reply, and though most of his replies were quick and short like that, Lance’s mind jumped on the tone, wondering what he did wrong so early in the game. “Red light?” he asked for explanation, tilting his head. “It’s a conversational safe word. It means change the subject,” Keith answered, and though it was still a little too quick for comfort, Lance dropped it. “Alright,” he said, shrugging. 

“Where are you from?” he asked instead, figuring a location would be safer than people. “I’m from a little bit of everywhere, but from thirteen onward, I lived in a cabin in the desert. I dropped out of high school when I was fifteen,” Keith provided, though the last part was a little quieter, and Lance could quickly see some gentle ribbing in his future, but he didn’t want to trigger anything. “Am I allowed to joke about that or is that another red light?” he asked, taking down the mood a little from the serious tone. “Green light,” Keith replied, and a small smile had come back into his features when he took a bite from his pizza. The man somehow made eating look cute. That should be illegal. Lance knew what he looked like eating, and it wasn’t anything near cute. 

“I’m bilingual, which makes me automatically cooler than you,” Lance slid into another conversational piece he used quite often pretty quickly, and Keith raised an eyebrow. “You’re bilingual? What language?” he asked, seemingly genuinely curious, doing that cute head tilt thing again. “ _ Dios mio _ , most people assume because I’m latino. Spanish is my first language,” and Keith’s face heated up, turning red pretty quickly. “I didn’t want to assume! I mean, I’m half Korean, but I know like  _ five words  _ of Korean. For all I knew, you could have spoken more Korean than I do!” he ranted, a bit flustered in a way that was decidedly cute. “Calm down,  _ cariño _ , Christ on high,” Lance slipped, and he was profoundly glad Hunk wasn’t here. He would call Lance out  _ so hard _ , and then call in Pidge for a proper roasting. 

“What does  _ cariño _ mean?” Keith asked, and Lance thought he might actually die. “It’s not very nice,” he said, saving his own ass by insulting Keith and making the other glare at him. “I have your number,” he changed the subject so Keith wouldn’t ask him anything else, though he was once again throwing himself under the bus. Keith raised an eyebrow. “Where did you get my number?” he asked, tilting his head again, still very cute. “Shiro’s phone,” Lance said, taking another bite out of his pizza to mask his own slight nerves. “Text me so I can have yours. Even ground, you know,” Keith even looked like he was making an excuse, but Lance let it slide. 

“Let me text you real quick,” he said, opening up his texting app with a quickness. He texted the number saved as _DDR Nerd,_ which had three drafts in it that he swiftly deleted, a few emojis. Keith laughed when he opened his phone, and Lance could watch as he saved his contact. “How do you spell _cariño_? I want to use it as your contact name,” Keith asked and Lance almost choked on his drink, as he had thought they had put that behind them. “You’ll just google what it means, and where’s the fun in that?” Lance tried to logic and joke his way out of this, but Keith narrowed his eyes. “I would not,” he said, sounding faintly irritated. “I still have my pride, Lance.” Lance put his drink down, not seeing a way to get out of this one without telling Keith what it meant. “Okay,” he caved, “let me see your phone.” 

Keith handed it over immediately, eyes shining with something like victory, the fingers of his other hand tapping against his cup. Lance typed in it the name bar, despite not wanting to, and felt his face heating up just typing it in relation to Keith. Every time Keith texted him, he’d be texting  _ Cariño _ , sweetie, which was what his little sister had named her boyfriend’s contact when she was in the tenth grade. “You okay, Lance?” Keith asked when he didn’t give him back his phone when he was done typing it in. “I’m fine,” he laughed it off, handing his companion back his phone, “I forgot how to put the tilde over the n.”

“I’m not going to google it, but I’m probably going to imagine it means asshole, just so you know,” Keith provided, putting his phone back in his pocket. “Now, you have the dropout thing to poke fun about - give  _ me  _ ‘the dirt,’” Keith said, taking a sip of his drink after putting the last two words in quotation marks. “Alright,” Lance said, and then began.

 

* * *

  
  


“So how was your  _ date _ ?” Hunk said as he walked into their dorm, even though it was nine thirty at night, and usually Saturday was when Hunk spent the evening with Pidge to catch up on the nerd stuff they had done without each other the week previous. “ _ Dios mio _ , Hunkules, you scared me,” Lance joked off the turn  _ date  _ like it didn’t make all of the blood in his body rush up to his face in embarrassment. “That doesn’t answer the question, Lancelot,” Hunk sniped back, staying on topic with a grin and a gesture leading Lance to sit down on his bed, where they were best at conversing. “It wasn’t a date, Hunk. Don’t get your hopes up,”  _ or mine _ , he thought, sitting down beside his friend and leaning against the wall. 

“So how was it?” they asked, softer this time. “It was so good, dude,” Lance admitted with a sigh, leaning against Hunk’s shoulder when supporting himself sounded harder than he was willing to deal with. “Who won?” they inquired, their voice rumbling in a way Lance could feel. “That is an answer I will take to my grave,” he tried to joke, but it fell a little flat from his usual tones. “So Keith?” Hunk assumed, keeping the joking aura. “You’re not wrong. But, he bought me dinner, so who’s the real winner?” Lance laughed, leaning a little harder against Hunk for a moment before pulling off entirely to look at him. 

“He bought you dinner?” Hunk’s voice was wrought with suggestion, and their eyebrows wiggled, making Lance laugh a little more. “Big Apple Pizza, don’t act like he bought me a steak dinner and proposed all at once, nerd,” Lance tried to snap back, but he was in too good of a mood for it to hold any kind of heat. “You’re really into him, aren’t you?” his friend said, already nodding to confirm their own suspicions. “Don’t get my hopes up, okay? Buying me dinner doesn’t mean he’s into me,” Lance dragged himself back down from the earlier elation, leaving only a slight sense of dread and a bit of happiness in the pit of his stomach. “Hey,” Hunk interrupted his musing when they saw the look on his face. 

“I’m not going to let you think he thinks you’re the best thing ever, but I’m not going to let you think you’re the worst thing ever, either. That’s not fair either,” they said, smiling down at him. Lance breathed out through his nose and collected himself back together a little, nodding. “Okay,” he said quietly. “So why aren’t you at Pidge’s?”

 

* * *

  
  


The next morning, Lance had planned on brooding for most of the day, as was typical when he was developing a crush, but Pidge and Hunk had other plans. “Get up, asshat,” Pidge said, wedging his small but  _ freezing _ hands into Lance’s sides, a method that always worked to make him rocket launch himself out of bed. Lance let out an entirely masculine yelp as his head practically hit the ceiling and he crashed into the floor. “Ugh,” he groaned eloquently, picking himself up off of the floor and rolling back onto his bed in one fluid motion. “Leave me here to die,” Lance quoted, rolling straight on towards the wall. 

“It’s ten in the morning and we’re going to get McDonald’s and then Starbucks. Get up, I’m paying,” Pidge insisted, and Lance was up like a shot. “You’re paying?” he asked, an eyebrow raised. “Considering the fact that you were face down in bed until I said that? Yeah,” he replied, looking through Lance’s dresser drawers before finding a pair of joggers, throwing them at Lance’s head. “Come on,” Hunk said from across the room, already pulling on the green vest he was privy to wearing most of the time. “Have ya’ll been up since the asscrack of dawn or?” Lance asked, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. “I’ve been up for thirty minutes, thanks,” Hunk replied. 

“I woke up at maybe seven? Whenever Shiro woke up,” Pidge said, obviously thoughtless, before looking up with a small amount of panic in his eyes. “Shiro! You were with Shiro last night?” Lance said, eyebrows raised, glad to have been right about how well his friend and Keith’s roommate would get along. Pidge’s red face still didn’t face towards him. “I hope you used protection!” Hunk jested from his own bed, where he had sat down. “It’s not like that!” Pidge squeaked, indignant. “They grow up so fast,” Lance said wistfully, looking towards Hunk with a false sappy kind of look. 

“You can pay for your own fucking food,” Pidge grumbled, and Lance almost gave himself whiplash looking back over at him so quickly. “Pidge, baby, sweetness,  _ mi amor _ , my one true love, you don’t mean it,” he said, knowing he was being dramatic but dragging himself over on his knees to beg, holding Pidge’s hands. Pidge rolled his eyes and snatched his hands away, pushing Lance backwards. “I’d buy your food if you stop being such a scrublord,” he said quietly, though with no small amount of snark. “You are my own true love, king of my life, the real bae,  _ mi cielo _ ,  _ mi corazón _ ,” Lance told him, pulling off his sleeping shorts to pull on his joggers. Lance had never been particularly private about his own naked body, used to a small amount of privacy, and neither Pidge nor Hunk were much phased by it anymore. 

“Wear your black crop top with the words on it with those, you always look awesome,” Hunk suggested while pulling on his shoes. “You have the best ideas,  _ mi amor _ ,” Lance said, pulling the mentioned article out of the lower drawer of his bedside table. “Eyeliner or no eyeliner, Hunkules?” he asked, already pulling out his favorite pencil. “Always wear eyeliner, Lance. It looks banging, every time,” Hunk replied, not even looking over. “You own too many clothes,” Pidge muttered from the center of the room where he had sat down. “You own one jacket and it’s fucking green. Leave me alone, Holt,” Lance snipped back, changing shirts with a quickness. “It’s a comfortable sweater! Leave my sweater alone, McClain,” Pidge returned, sticking his tongue out, which Lance did as well, even while putting on his eyeliner without a mirror. 

“Alright, kids, let’s calm it down,” Hunk mediated, pointing a smile in both of their directions and standing up. “Put your shoes on, Lance,” he reminded his roommate, who complied immediately, though he made a face down at them. “So, if not what we said, what is going on with Shiro?” Lance asked, raising an eyebrow. “Like, he kissed me, and we watched a movie, but I don’t know if it’s a thing. He fell asleep in my room and then went back to his. It was really nice, and it felt like a date, but I don’t want to push it,” Pidge laid it out honestly, shrugging at the end. “You guys kissed?” Hunk asked, sounding excited and delighted for his friend. 

“Yeah,” was all Pidge said in answer, wistful and soft. Lance and Hunk made eye contact before Lance got up, both of them walking towards Pidge to initiate the Group Hug ™. They had long made a habit of group hugs, though Pidge was mostly hesitant to partake, and complained throughout the entire thing. “Get off of me!” he groaned this time, wiggling to try to shake off his well-meaning friends, and Lance basked in this. He missed both of brothers, all three of his sisters, and his sibling so much, and in the moment, he could see himself on the coast of North Carolina, in one of the group hugs Mamá would make them have when they fought. He loved his friends so much.

Hunk and Lance pulled off after, perhaps, ten seconds, grinning at each other over Pidge’s head. “Can we just go,  _ please _ ?” Pidge pushed up his glasses and glared at both of them in turns, walking over to their door. “Yes, Pidge,” they said in droning unison, following their friend out of the dorm. “So, why are we going out for breakfast and coffee? And why is Pidge paying for it?” Lance asked once they were in the elevator, curiosity brimming over. “We have to eat sometime, Lancelot,” Hunk replied, obviously avoiding the question. “Hunk told me you had a weird night, so I’m being a good friend. I guess,” Pidge actually explained, and Lance glared at Hunk. “You have to spread my shit, don’t you?  _ Dios mio _ ,” he laughed, leaning back a little on Hunk. 

“I didn’t give any major details, drama queen,” Hunk replied, wrapping an arm around Lance’s right shoulder and neck from behind and leaning his chin on Lance’s left shoulder. “But, you are. I need answers. For science,” Pidge said, messing with his glasses, a habit he picked up when he started wearing hipster glasses sometime last year. Lance had figured out that Pidge didn’t really  _ need  _ them when he stole them off Pidge’s face, putting them on. “Are these reading glasses or something?” Lance had asked, but Pidge quickly and embarrassedly explained that they were  _ fashion glasses _ . A tech major with fashion glasses. Classic. 

“And who says I’ll give up your  _ answers _ ?” Lance teased, even though he knew that he would. “A ten dollar breakfast and five dollars worth of expensive coffee?” Pidge offered in answer, and it was a pretty solid rebuttal. “You’re not wrong,” Lance replied, running his fingers through his hair in a way that he hoped fixed it some. Hunk fixed the rest of it in the back, not needing to be asked. When they had first met, Lance had already been one lanky kid, but Hunk had still been quite small. After they were both around thirteen or fourteen, Hunk shot up like a rocket, growing not only as tall as Lance, but an inch or so taller. Lance had been jealous at first, but Hunk draped his arms around Lance’s shoulders and fixed his hair, so he was quite fond of it now. 

“Does it have to be McDonald’s?” Pidge seemed to be reconsidering now, tapping a finger against his own chin. “If you’re paying, Pigeon, it could be Taco Bell and I would only complain for like three minutes,” Lance replied, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Okay, one, that’s gross, and two, that’s a lie. You would complain for at least five. We’re getting Burger King,” Pidge stepped out of the elevator after it came to a stop, rolling his eyes. “Do we  _ have  _ to?” Lance whined, following after Pidge with Hunk close behind his shoulder, slinging an arm around his shoulder in a way more conducive to walking. “Okay, now it’s settled. We’re  _ definitely  _ going to Burger King, you dramatic piece of shit.”

 

* * *

  
  


They ended up out the entire morning and then all afternoon. It had been a while since he had just spent the day, out, with his friends, eating and chatting and figuring things out that they couldn’t puzzle out on their own, and then going out again, maybe dancing. Coming back to the dorms felt like coming home for once, unlike how it usually was akin to coming back to a hotel room, temporary in nature. “We had like three drinks and it’s only eight o’clock, Lance. Why are you walking like - like a mess?” Pidge asked from somewhere lower and left, but Lance was in a happiness haze that kind of made it not matter where his friend was. “Do you not feel it, Pidgeon?” he asked, smile wide as he reached towards him, placing a hand in his hair. 

“Has he always been like this?” Pidge asked someone not him, Hunk, specifically, stepping out from under Lance’s hand. “It happens when he gets a little tipsy and really, really happy. Usually with friends. I’ve never really questioned it,” Hunk explained, shrugging even though Lance was under his arm. “Don’t talk about me like I’m not here,” Lance said, though he giggled near the end, and the severity he intended was lost. He had a strange habit of losing himself when he was around his friends, an ethereal happiness that just took him over, something said to make him looser in the shoulders, and prettier. Though, the prettier comment was from Hunk, and everyone knew how nice Hunk was, so maybe that wasn’t the best source. Lance should probably ask Keith. Keith was good at being mean. Speaking of Keith. 

“Hey, dipshit,” Keith said by way of greeting, meeting them in the elevator like before. Hey, that was a weird coincidence! “We’ve got to stop meeting like this, Keith. This is so weird!” Lance exclaimed, giggly. “He’s had a few, sorry,” Hunk said when Pidge just facepalmed, left to explain to a Keith who was already looking at Lance like - what was that look? His eyes kept scanning up and down Lance’s body, before rocketing back up to his face with a little bit of red in his cheeks - oh. Oh. Keith was looking at him like - but - no. He couldn’t be. That’s so lmao. He definitely couldn’t be. 

“And don’t call me dipshit!” Lance whined maybe a little late for the original comment, looking down at Keith with a frown. Keith finally looked away from Lance and over to Pidge, looking like he was building himself up to say something. “You should go see him. I’ll stay scarce for like an hour, but please talk to him. He thinks you’re mad at him for not saying anything this morning. Please talk to him,” he released, his entire face a light shade of pink that was surprisingly cute. Totally not cute. Infuriating, maybe, seeing as he still wasn’t paying Lance the proper attention he so totally deserved. “If you can’t be in your dorm, how about ours?” Lance offered, and he received three pairs of panic eyes at once. Hunk’s said “ _ But I haven’t cleaned since Wednesday!” _ , Pidge’s  _ “Don’t make me go talk to him!”, _ and Keith’s… Keith’s were a mystery. 

“Or not,” he immediately tried to rectify, but Keith’s face fell a little, and he wanted to take that back too. “Pidge, you’re gonna have to talk to him eventually. Might as well be now, right, buddy?” he tried to fix it again, and while Pidge still looked a little sick, he nodded. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you’re probably right, Lance,” he sighed. “Come on,  _ cariño,  _ you don’t mean it,” he teased back without a thought, and Keith’s head tilted. “What does  _ cariño  _ mean?” he asked, looking at both Lance and Hunk in turn. “Sweetie, I think?” Pidge ended up answering as Lance went red, and Hunk didn’t answer out of situational solidarity. “Oh,” Keith said before going a soft pink again, and Lance kind of wanted to punch himself in the face. 

“How about Pidge goes up to Keith and Shiro’s and Keith goes with Lance to our room and I… I’m gonna blast, sound like a good plan?” Hunk offered, and then pushed Lance and Keith onto the eighth floor when the elevator stopped. They could have climbed back on, but both of them seemed frozen in time, and watched as the elevator closed. “To my room?” Lance felt suddenly and achingly sober, like Keith brought him back down to Earth with his serious nature. Keith nodded and followed him as he walked, neither of them speaking until the door closed behind them. “I have you in my phone under  _ sweetie _ ?” Keith asked once they were in, voice scathing. “I mean… you could?” Lance settled on phrasing like a question, wanting to hold his head in his hands. 

“I don’t like being lied to,  _ Lance _ ,” Keith said, almost quietly, with most of the anger gone out of it, though he still held the corner on making the other’s name sound like a curse. “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t think - it was an accident, when I called you that, because I call Pigeon and Hunkules that, and it was - it was an accident,” Lance tried to explain, though some of it was still a lie. “So… it was a friendly thing? Just friendly?” and if Lance didn’t know better, he would place the other’s tone as… disappointed? “Well, I don’t think that’s exactly right. If I’m supposed to be honest,” Lance chanced, desperately wanting what he thought could be happening to be true. 

“Explain, sunrise land,” Keith made him work for it, made him actually say it, that dickbag. “I might have called you sweetie… in the way people usually call people they like sweetie?” Lance tried, not wanting to surrender a direct answer, though they were both smiling lightly. “People they like?” that dickbag asked. “I like you, okay? I’m into you. All aboard the Keith train, I’d love to ride. Into-Keith-ville, population me and probably several freshmen, I’m Keith trash, okay?” Lance explained, red in the face and not looking Keith in the eye. “If it helps, I’m more or less Lance trash, you know,” Keith offered in return, also not looking at Lance. “That actually helps a lot, thank you,” Lance said, like this was a normal conversation to be having, Jesus Christ. 

Keith leaned forward, pressing his lips against Lance’s, and Lance felt like he was on cloud nine all over again, the kiss sweeter than he would have expected. His hands came to hold Keith’s face, Keith’s hands making handholds of his hip bones. This was the first time anyone he had seriously liked had liked him back. Once in a blue moon. 

**Author's Note:**

> Lance totally wears croptops and joggers and leggings and eyeliner and i will fight anyone. Also, comments and kudos down below would be entirely lovely! I'll try to update by the 30th! // Edit: July 28. I'm going to be honest. I'm not working on this project right now. The discourse in the Voltron fandom is giving me a lot of anxiety and I need a minute. I'll try to update before school starts on August 29. I'll be writing in the Miraculous fandom for a while.


End file.
